Love Is The Greatest Thing
by Northern Snow Song
Summary: After the death of Satine, Christain needs to get his story out to the world, He made Satine a promise he would tell a story. His tragic past still haunts him, but his love is stonger, beacuse love is the greatest thing is it not?
1. Chapter 1

_Authors note: This is my first Fan Fiction story, Yay!_

_I'm a very big fan of the film Moulin Rouge and I hope others who are fans like this story. Please forgive if I make any mistakes and tell me what you think._

_Hope you like it :)_

The room was silent apart from the sound of paper rustling in the wind, the only light in was from an old lamp with was covered in spider webs. The light from the lamp illuminated the many bottles of wine which were scattered on the wooden floor. He promised himself he would get his act together, stop drinking his sorrow but it was too hard to erase the memory which haunted his dreams for so long.

Christian looked down at his typewriter which looked old and dusty like the memories of the one he once loved. Now that he had finished the book of what reminded him of her and the pain he went though in order just to be with her. It was time to get it out to the world, just like he had promised the words of Satine's voice still echoed in his head "Write a story, Christian."

Suddenly the shutters of the window hit hard and loudly against the wall as a ferocious wind came though the open window, making paper fly everywhere and filling the room with coldness of winter. Christian squinted as the room was filled with light. He got up from his leather armchair and walked to the window. He sighed and shut the window, and as he did he looked up as he noticed the windmill from the Moulin Rouge.

How many times he had gazed at it and remembered the past? His eyes filled with tears and in rage slammed the shutters closed. He leant against the shutters with his head looking up at the ceiling, which then became the image of a clock tower: he was thinking of his past.

He gazed up to the clock tower to see Satine standing on the balcony with the Duke. "No!" cried Christian. "Must forget…"

He ran across the side of the room, hitting a table sending the book he had just finished falling on the floor. He slowly turned around and rushed to the paper sobbing, and knelt down and tried to reassemble the pages in the right order. _I don't want to forget her_ he thought to himself. He turned the table back up and put the many pages neatly back. He then whispered "I made a promise."

*

That night Christian slept restlessly. He twisted and turned, crying out names as he dreamt, his arms reaching out for them. In his dream he was running though the corridor of the Moulin Rouge after a girl in a red satin dress. He tripped over onto the floor for some reason he could not get back to his feet, no matter how hard he tried. He gazed around at the bright paintings and golden painted walls with rich detailed patterns which circled the corridor. He rested his head down on the soft red carpet. When he felt a soft but cold hand touch his face, he looked up to see Satine; he smiled as he gazed into her deep blue eyes. She was as beautiful as he remembered her: her pale smooth face and her long red hair which was pulled back off her face and pinned up with exotic looking hair clips.

Christian reached out to her face and kissed her, when he opened his eyes she was gone.

He got up from the floor and heard her voice calling his name; there she was at the end of the corridor again. Christian was confused, but still ran towards her. As she ran she held the side of her bright red dress. Her movement became slow and blurred; the closer he got to her the more she seemed to fade. He watched her run, and he could only see the back of her. He wanted her to turn around so he could once again look at her face, but she began to fade, which started at the bottom of her dress. Then her hair feel loose and the hair clips fell to floor as they did they disappeared, her red hair swayed as the more free it became.

"Don't go!" he shouted. He heard her laugh but her voice was muffled. Once he was close to her, he reached his hand out and touched the back of her flowing dress. She then turned around quickly her face looked no longer full of joy, but fear. She stood still starting into his eyes. Her face looked shocked her eyes became wider her mouth which was a smile fell. She looked as though she was in a trance, Christian felt scared as he said "What's wrong? Tell me." Suddenly before his eyes she faded

"Satine!" he shouted


	2. Chapter 2

Christian woke up, his face dull and covered in sweat. He took a deep breath and was thankful that it was just a dream. But how he wished he would dream about it again, for it did not matter how confusing the dream was; it was the fact of seeing her. He would want to dream any dream just to be with her.

It was time. He had to get the book out to the world, and then he could be at ease. Christian leapt out of the bed, grabbed his coat, scarf and hat off the coat hook, and then ran into the room where the book was. He opened a small brown bag and crammed the paper in. He then made his way to the door, opening the door handle, swinging the door open, without noticing his short friend on the other side. He bumped straight into Toulouse Lautrec, who fell flat on the floor and yelled "Oh Christian! What you do that for? Wait! Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, no time to talk," Christian replied. "Getting the book …umm done!"

He helped his friend up and then ran for the exit. Toulouse Lautrec brushed the dust off his clothes and scratched his head in confusion. He remembered about the book, and cried out to Christian in joy "Yes! Christian, go, run in the name of love!"

Christian ran as fast, as he could still hearing Satine's voice calling his name. In his mind, it was the music of the Moulin Rouge. The night sky was dark and cloudy; only a few street lights lit the damp roads. He ran thought the dark and cold and rain, every now and then almost dropping the bag with the book in. He remembered a place where he could get his book published; an old building Toulouse Lautrec had pointed out to him.

Christian sprinted though the tight lanes and streets, thinking of nothing but the past: the bright colors, the music, the songs he used to sing to Satine. All these thoughts made his head feel dizzy. He stopped for breath, leaning against the side of a wall, shaking the cold rain water of his face. He looked up and noticed the old building in the distance. _This was the place_ he thought to himself, pushing himself away from the wall and continued running. Finally, he was there.

He looked up at the strange building, which looked as though it had been standing there for years. It looked bleak; the walls were grey and there were only two windows with wooden frames which were covered in dust from the inside. Christian walked up to the door and knocked twice, but there was no reply. Again he knocked, and this time more loudly. He heard a muffled voice shouting and the door swung open.

A man stood in front of him with a vacant expression. He also had a white short beard and looked almost as old as the building. He raised one thick eyebrow and said

"What you want, lad?"

Christian spoke politely but his words came out jerking as he shivered in the cold, "Sorry to trouble you at this time, but I have a book I've just finished and I was wondering-"

The man interrupted him "Yes, they all say that. Now get inside here, you're letting all the rain in."

"Thank you." Christian replied, hurrying in.

Christian followed the man though a dark hallway, which was covered in bookshelves. Then though a door into a large room with an old desk, which was behind two leather chairs. On the floor was torn red carpet, and in the fireplace a welcoming, warm fire. The man took a seat and so did Christian.

"Here have some of this you look like you need it" the man said in a gruff voice. He poured a green colored drink and passed it to Christian. Without looking, Christian drunk the glass of alcohol down in one, he recognized it immediately; Absinthe. The taste of the drink was not strong, as Christian had got used to it. This was becuase he would drink it whenever he felt any pain from the past. The man gave him a odd look "I see you like your drink." he said

"Not really" answered Christian, looking down at the empty glass.

"So," said the man tapping his fingers together. "You want to show me some book, right? This is what this building is for - finding interesting books to get out into the world."

Christian looked up at the man, then quickly swung open his bag and handed him the book. The man tried to hold all the many pages together. He then asked "What's it about then?"

Christian looked up, and his eyes were bloodshot from the many sleepless nights, but his bright blue eyes still seemed to gleam. He gulped. "Beauty, Truth, Freedom, and Love."

The man nodded as he looked though the papers. Christian found it hard to talk about the love he used to feel so passionate about. Love was what had kept him alive. Now, it was gone, and he felt so alone and cold, as if he was dead and the only thing keeping him alive was his memories of Satine.

Christian turned to look at the fire. The flames danced and small yellow sparks hissed. Christian thoughts wandered and he forgot where he was. He stared into the fire until it seemed a blur; outlines of the flames seemed to turn into other shapes, shapes of dancers from the Moulin Rouge...

Christian had a flashback of the past. He was back at the Moulin Rouge, and he was watching the dancers. He remembered the bright lights and colours. The more he stared into the fire, the more his thoughts became vivid. He remembered the first time he saw Satine, The Sparkling Diamond. He thought back to the Duke, the one man who had shattered his dreams. The fire which Christian gazed into reminded him of his burning rage and jealousy, which was almost uncontrollable to bear.

"Hello?" said the man.

Christian swung a round his eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry" he replied. Turning away from the fire.

A few moments passed, and the man looked though the paper, then went back and forward again reading muttering to himself. Christian sat upright in his chair, trying to feel hopeful. The man coughed and tapped the paper.

"It's good." he said "Is it alright if I borrow it so I can read I though again?"

Christian paused for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you."

Christian hurried out the building. He already missed the book. He also felt as though something had been taken away from him. He missed the thoughts and feeling he had had so passionately into the book.

The rain had ceased and Christian walked back out into the streets. As he did, his mind was focused on so many thoughts. He had taken a wrong turn and he found himself in a dark street which looked familiar. Christian paused for a moment; it was the street leading though the poor people's alleyways, leading though the bohemian musicians and writers who had set up shops. It was the street leading to the Moulin Rouge.


	3. Chapter 3

Christian's first instinct was to turn away and not to linger in the past, but something told him to go; to go to the Moulin Rouge one more time. It was only a year since it all happened, and a few months ago that he had last set foot in the Moulin Rouge. He wanted to know if it was still the same.

Christian walked down the long street, wrapping his coat tighter around him. The closer he came to the Moulin Rouge, the more sick he felt. He started shaking uncontrollably and wanted to turn back. But as he saw the windmill with the bright red and gold lights, he was immediately drawn to it. He came towards the entrance doors and looked in his pockets for some money. Luckily, he had just about enough, and quickly handed it to a man standing near the entrance, which opened the doors for him. He slowly walked inside.

He stopped in his tracks as he looked across the courtyard. All the memories of the past came rushing back to him. He then gazed up to see the elephant - it looked almost exactly the same. Christian took a deep breath; he could hear the music from the main building. Christian knew that inside there would be dancers in bright coloured dresses, people drinking and partying. But this time, there would be no Satine. Christian stood still in the courtyard for a while, watching men walking past him, coming to and out of the Moulin Rouge, listening to the loud music. Christian decided not to go into the main building, but to a quieter place. He looked back to the elephant and remembered.

Suddenly Christen rushed over to the elephant and looked up at the large building. He went a round the back and found the elephant building's rope tail, and slowly Christian climbed up the rope. It seemed easier the first time he had climbed up, as this time he found himself slipping and losing his grip. Finally, he was almost at the top, and he took a deep breath as he leaned forward, almost throwing himself over the top. He got to his feet, and gasped at the familiar sight.

Christian looked down over the edge of the elephant; he was so high up! He then looked across the view at the buildings and small lights in the distance. Everything reminded him of the past: the view the seats with the gold metal shelter where Satine once sat, when he had followed her. Christian walked over to the seats and knelt down in front of it. He reached out a cold hand and touched the seat where she had once sat. He began to sob and placed his hand over his face. He then sat down on the seat next to the one where Satine had sat. He started talking as though she was there.

"Remember the times we used to sing to each other, and the times we spoke of out future?" He turned to the chair where no one was sitting on -there was no Satine to sit next to him and talk. This feeling made Christian feel worse, and he closed his eyes and sighed, looking away from the chair, off into the distance. He began to sing in a very quiet but beautiful voice:

"How wonderful life is, now you're in the world." Christian ran his hand though his hair, and stood up. As he did, a strong wind blew and he heard a voice. At first, he thought it was just in his imagination: it was an eerie yet a soft and beautiful voice. It was Satine.

It sung "never knew, I could feel like this." The voice only lasted for a moment, and then faded with a loud howl of wind. Christian looked around nervously trembling

"Satine?" he said but there was not one behind him. "It's all in your head." He then shouted, falling to the floor sobbing.

He looked down at the floor, then closed his eyes. As he did, he felt an overwhelming feeling to stand back up. This was a feeling he had never felt before; it was the feeling of acceptance.

Before, he could not accept Satine's death. His heart was full of too much sorrow, pain and jealousy that death had stolen her away from him. But his love was now so strong that in a way he had accepted his pain, and understood it was alright to feel sad. Even though she was not with him, it did not mean he had to stop loving her. He would love her even more! Christian got to his feet and sung in a loud heart warming voice "listen to my heart! Can you hear it sing? Telling me to give you everything. Seasons may change, winter to spring." Christian felt strange he had not sung so passionately like this for a long time after her death. He had felt that all music had been taken away from him. He then continued.

"But I love you, till the end of time."

Christian looked out into the distance out into the night sky which was turning morning. He watched the sun slowly rising, filling the cold dark sky into bright orange horizon. The light seemed to grow and grow and shined in Christian face as the warm sunlight dried the tears from his cheeks.

"Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day!"


	4. Chapter 4

Christian went back home and swung open his front door, placing his coat back onto the coat hook. It was much warmer inside, yet he felt cold and upset that he was back to a home where he was alone once more. There were no city lights or sounds of music from the Moulin Rouge to comfort him. The front room was so still and silent. It felt as though it had been empty for years, as though all the joy that once dwelled in the rooms had faded over time or been taken away.

Christian let out deep sigh. He felt that unfathomable feeling in his heart which could never be filled. He went into the small kitchen to find Toulouse Lautrec sitting on a chair.

"Ah, Christian!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. "You left the door open when you ran out. I know that you were going to go further with your book."

Once Christian got over the shock of finding Toulouse in his kitchen he took another deep sigh "Yes I did."

"And?" replied Toulouse Lautrec leaning forward with a glass of Absinthe in his little hand.

"I'm not sure yet, sorry. Would you like another drink?"

"Why not?!" grinned Toulouse. "The more drink, the more inspiration and the more cheerfulness there will be."

Christian smiled slightly. "I think I might join you there" he replied, taking a bottle from the cupboard and filling two glasses.

"You should be proud of yourself" said Toulouse. "I always knew it! from when I first saw you! You're the writer who never gives up." He raised his glass and drained it down in one. "She would be proud of you" he said softly, pointing his slightly wavering finger at Christian's face.

Christian stood still, looking down into his glass.

"Well, I better be getting back," sad Toulouse, getting out of his chair. "I think there going to be a party on the street. Are you going to be there? There is music and drink and-"

"No thanks, maybe another time though" Christian smiled, trying to hide the tiredness in his eyes.

"Alright then, I'll let myself out" Toulouse said, reaching to pat Christen shoulder, before he stumbled out of the kitchen, a little drunk.

Christian heard the door swing closed with a loud bang and could still hear his friend's footsteps echoing along the wooden floor in the corridor. Christian sat down in an arm chair, when he suddenly heard another knock at the door. "Go and get some rest!" he shouted thinking it was Toulouse Lautrec, the knocking continued. "Alright!" cried Christian getting up with a sigh and rushing to the door. He opened it slowly, and there before him was a familiar sight, one he had hoped never to see again.

The Duke.

**

"Hello, Christian" came his sly whiny voice devoid of cheer.

"You!" Christian replied in shock. Pointing a finger into his face, he felt a rage overcome him and his hands started to shake and his eyes became to burn with anger. Soon it was too strong and he couldn't help but punch the Duke in the smug face with a hard fist.

The Duke's head snapped back and held his nose. "I knew you would do that" he said, laughing.

"I'll kill you!" hissed Christian. Before he could aim another punch, the Duke interrupted him.

"Forget her, Christian. You must be wondering why I'm here. You owe me; you owe me a lot."

"I owe you nothing! I see you found out she is dead, you son of a bitch!"

"I did hear. Shame, isn't it?" He didn't sound remorseful. "She would have been mine if it were not for you. You who embarrassed me in front of hundreds of people at that perfect play of yours. You stole Satine from me and-"

"Don't you dare say her name!" shouted Christian, glaring at the Duke's face. It looked a lot older and much more corrupted than usual. He wore a dark green buttoned waistcoat with a white shirt, his hair brushed to one side. What had not changed was the evil grin on his face.

"You will pay for what you have done" said Christian trying to breath. He was so angry that his throat began to ache.

"You look don't look very happy to see me" the Duke smirked before he laughed again. "And you look ridiculously ill. You look like you haven't been outside for years. I expected you to have got your act together by now at least, but no; you're just the same mad writer who is foolish enough to try and hurt me and then get away with it."

"Shut up" said Christian with vehemence.

"I don't think your really listening, are you?" whispered the Duke. "You also lost me the Moulin Rouge, my respect, everything."

"You took everything from me!" screamed Christian.

The Duke sighed. "Listen, I have enough money to buy the Moulin Rogue back, and guess what I shall do once it is mine again. I'm going to destroy it."

He gave another smile and slowly stepped closer to Christian, who moved backwards.

The Duke continued. "I will take all the memories of Satine away, kick out all the pathetic workers there to the streets. Every song, poem…." He paused. "And every story will be gone; your little bohemian friends will know nothing of ridiculous love and music."

He had now walked into Christian's home, and Christian was still walking back until he hit the wall of the room.

"No you won't" he murmured.

"Well, you have no choice. Because if you don't help me, I'm going to rid of you, your friends… everything and everyone you know will be gone, and much more.

"I'm an impatient man Christian, and your time is almost up. Meet me at the Moulin Rouge. Come alone if you want to live." The Duke smirked and turned around to leave.

"I don't care if I die" replied Christian defiantly. "I won't help you."

"I always liked your brave little spirit, Christian" said the Duke sarcastically. "Twelve a clock tomorrow night."

And then he slammed the door shut.


End file.
